


No Deal

by TheScholarlyStrumpet (equipoise)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mostly porn, Porn With Plot, semi plot, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-05-24 00:21:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6135106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/equipoise/pseuds/TheScholarlyStrumpet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Lacey can't make rent, she tries to make a deal with Gold. He has other ideas.</p><p>Pre-Emma Cursed!Storybrooke Rumbelle/Golden Lace smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No Deal - Part One

Lacey kicked off her heels with a scowl. Her hair smelled badly of smoke and mascara was starting to drip into her eyes. She was half drunk, fully pissed off, and she needed a fucking shower. A hot one. 

Something had to wash the stench of Keith off of her. She'd made the mistake of making out with him once, when she was drunk and desperate to feel something. Anything but that knawing, aching boredom that seemed etched into her bones. A couple sloppy kisses in the alley behind the bar and now the man thought he was God's fucking gift. Like he had the right to lay hands on her whenever he felt like it. 

She'd kneed him in the groin and taken off. But that meant she hadn't been able to collect on what he owed her. Lacey made a sound of frustration and flung herself onto the ratty sofa, dirty laundry shifting beneath her. She kicked an empty beer can by her feet. 

The only reason she'd even gone out tonight was to get the money from that worthless dirtbag. Last time they played pool he'd lost badly. It had been two weeks and he wasn't paying up. Full of excuses, like the sack of shit he was. Tonight, he'd said he'd meet her at the Rabbit Hole and he'd be good for it. A few drinks in, he finally showed. First he'd tried to break even by suggesting another game, winner take all. But Lacey wasn't in the mood to play. Rent was due tonight and her latest shitty temp job wasn't gonna cover it. 

So then Keith invited her outside, saying he didn't wanna pay up in front of his buddies. Macho pride or some shit. She'd smelled a rat but played along anyway because she really did need the money. Sure enough, the scumball tried to make a move the second they were alone. She hoped her heel left a puncture mark on his foot. 

Lacey scrubbed her hands over her face, swiping at the makeup under her eyes. What a shit day. 

There was a knock at the door and her stomach sank. No matter who was on the other side, it was not going to be good news. Ruby was working tonight and hardly anyone else ever stopped by. 

"Miss French?" A clipped voice with a Sottish accent inquired. 

Shit. 

Fuck. 

Rent day. Right. Lacey dove for the sequined bag she kept her spare change and rent money in. She upended it into the coffee table, pushing aside a couple of empty takeout containers. 

"Miss French," the voice came again, more insistent this time. 

"Yeah, uh, just a minute." Lacey quickly counted the money on the table. 

$200 short. 

Keith owed her $300. She should have just taken his wallet while he was doubled over. But she didn't want to spend another night in that tiny jail cell Sheriff Graham kept so tidy. It was one thing to knee a guy where the sun don't shine in self-defense. Stealing his wallet would be a lot harder to justify. 

Lacey took a deep breath and snatched up the wad of cash. Maybe Gold wouldn't notice, she thought recklessly. Unlikely as that was, she let her hopes hinge on it as the door swung open between them. 

Gold took a cursory glance around, ostensibly looking for damage he could demand she pay extra for. He narrowed his eyes at her less than pristine housekeeping, as always, but found no further cause for complaint. "You took your time," he observed, dryly. 

"You got more important places to be? I'm sure I don't mind if you go there, instead." Lacey crossed her arms across her chest, just under the push up bra. It was meant to be a position of defiance but served the dual purpose of enhancing her cleavage. 

Gold's eyes flicked to the display, lingering just long enough to plant the seed of an idea in Lacey's slightly inebriated mind.

It wasn't the first time she'd seen him looking. Truth be told, she didn't mind. Her wardrobe was designed to invite wandering eyes and free drinks. But it felt different when she happened to catch Gold's eye. Unlike most the single men in town, he didn't go around chasing anything with a short skirt. 

In fact, Gold had a reputation for being completely disinterested in anything but his money and the things in his pawn shop. Yet Lacey was aware that there had to be more going on below the surface. Still waters were said to run deep. Sometimes she got this weird little itch to discover Gold's hidden depths.

"The rent, Miss French?" Gold cleared his throat and extended a hand. His gaze shifted back to her face, unabashed in his earlier appraisal. 

"Right to the chase, huh?" Lacey stuffed the cash into his hand. "Are you always all work and no play?

His lip curled at the messy wad of bills. Tucking his cane in the crook of one arm, he began sorting them. "Some of us have standards."

Lacey scoffed, her hands flexing nervously as she tried to think of ways to distract him from keeping an accurate count. "So what? You gotta ruin everyone else's good time to maintain them?"

"I could not care less about anyone else's 'good time.' You're short." He looked back at her. 

"That's not very polite. You're just not used to seeing me out of heels." 

Gold's lips pressed thinly together. "The rent."

"Boy, nothing gets past you," she grumbled. 

He pretended to ignore that. "The terms are very clear, Miss French. Paid in full or you're out."

Lacey sighed, shoulders slumping. "Look, I woulda had it, if Keith wasn't such a nasty lying bastard."

Gold snorted and tucked her money into a small black bag he carried. "Lover's quarrel?"

"What?" Lacey stepped back, horrified. "God, no." She made a face. "He owes me $300 from a pool bet. Asshole was supposed to pay up and instead tried to make me an offer I could absolutely refuse."

Though he said nothing, the corner of Gold's mouth twitched upwards. It was almost imperceptible but Lacey spotted it. She liked the shape of his mouth, she realized. There was something rather sensual in the way his bottom lip bowed slightly. She wondered if he'd be a good kisser. He seemed so stiff and unyielding but there was softness to that mouth. 

Lacey looked away. Too much to drink and it had been a while since she’d had a good snog. Or a good anything, for that matter. She didn't even like Mr. Gold and he was currently at her doorstep threatening to evict her. Maybe not the ideal time for a seduction. 

Then again... that idea at the back of her mind wiggled its way forward. She'd never done anything like it before but... maybe it was worth a shot. If she knew nothing else about Mr. Gold, it was how much he liked to make deals. And if he said yes, it was a bit of a win-win for her, really.

"How about a deal?" The words popped out of her mouth, before she could stop them. 

His eyebrow lifted, stance shifting. One hip cocked out as both of his hands came to rest atop his cane.  "What sort of deal, dearie?"

Lacey did not care for the change in mood or the false endearment. Something told her using the word "deal" had just taken this conversation down a turn she'd not care for. She pushed the thought away. Desperate times and all. 

"Well... I know you don't just give extensions but... perhaps I could trade for one?" She, too, cocked a hip, resting one hand there. The other hand, she drew through her mass of curly hair, sweeping it away from her face. Even in melting makeup, she knew she was attractive. "Surely there's... something I could give you that might be worth just a day or two of your time?"

She let her hand drop from her hair, fingertips brushing her collarbone. She plucked at the low neckline of her cobalt blue shirt, unbuttoning the top button. 

Gold watched her, silently. His Adam's apple bobbed as she flicked open another button. The top of her lacy black bra was exposed, now. Her nipples had gone hard the moment she'd embarked on this little venture. It almost surprised her how much the idea of Mr. Gold in her bed was beginning to excite her. His gaze grew dark and hungry as her shirt fell open, lips parted just enough for her to see the tip of his tongue and the glint of his gold tooth. 

She moved closer, one hand running the length of his silk tie. "I know you're a hard man to please, Mr. Gold, but, luckily, that happens to be my specialty." She grinned cheekily up at him. 

One of Gold’s hands lifted from his cane, and hovered at her waist. It stayed suspended over the skin exposed by her open top, so close she could almost feel the heat of his touch. Then he withdrew, nostrils flaring, and took a step backward. His lips pulled back around clenched teeth. "No deal." 

"Why not?"

He swallowed audibly. "Because you have nothing I want.”

Lacey blinked at him, feeling like he'd doused her in cold water. It was a blatant lie and they both knew it. But his face had shuttered completely, closing her out. Her mouth fell open then snapped shut, humiliation tinging her cheeks pink. “Fine,” she snapped. “Your loss.”

Gold took another step back, not meeting her eyes. "$200 by midnight or vacate the premises." He turned to go. 

"Tomorrow. Just let me get the money from Keith. I know he has it, he’s just being a dick. Not that you’d know anything about that,” she added, archly.

He paused, head tilting to address her over one shoulder. "Midnight, Miss French."

Her hands turned to fists at her sides and she fought the urge to throw something at his retreating head. Instead she slammed the door so hard, the room rattled and a nearby pile of books fell over. 

Bastard! He'd known exactly what she was about. And he'd wanted it. There was no denying that. But something changed his mind and he had to go and be a total fucking pratt. Just like he always was.

What had she really even expected? She felt like a prize idiot for having even attempted to crack that nut. And now she might have to go stay with her judgmental, overbearing father until she could afford her own place again. Just great.

Lacey dropped back onto the sofa, biting back a sob. Fucking men. They were just the absolute worst. All of them. She beat up a pillow until some of the rage had ebbed and she found herself drowsing. Letting the remaining alcohol in her system take over, she closed her eyes and melted into the sofa.

Sometime later, she woke to a growling stomach. She needed to start packing but she'd be damned if she was gonna make it that easy on him. Instead, she head to the fridge. It was an unappetizing sight. She was contemplating making tomato soup out of ketchup packets and water when there was another knock.  

Lacey groaned and closed the fridge. What now? Was Gold back to add injury to insult?

She pulled it open without looking through the keyhole. 

Definitely not Gold. 

Sporting a freshly broken nose and an angry red mark across his windpipe, Keith held out a billfold. "It's all there." His voice sounded rough, as though it hurt him to speak.

Startled, Lacey took the money. "The fuck happened to you?"

Keith glared at her, one hand coming protectively to his throat. "Like you don't know, you psycho bitch."

Lacey’s mouth twisted, “Fuck off, Keith.”

His other hand shot out to stop her shutting the door. “Wait, he made me promise I’d ‘apologize’ for ‘assaulting’ you or some shit. So, I’m sorry, okay? So, you can call him off, now, okay?”

Both of her eyebrows shot skyward. “Are you kidding me?”

Keith sniffed then flinched. "I don't know what kinda deal you made for this but you’re gonna regret it.”

Lacey grit her teeth. “That nose looks awful tender, Keith. Would probably suck if you got punched there again, huh?”

He threw both hands up, in a pose of surrender. “Fine, yeah. Whatever.”

“Fuck off. Now.”

This time, he obeyed with alacrity.

Lacey closed the door and leaned against it, counting the bills in her hand. $300, exactly. She glanced at the clock. Two hours left before she’d be out of her home. Might as well see if Gold was still in his shop.

She had a few questions for him, anyway.


	2. No Deal - Part Two

The light was still on at Gold’s pawnshop, though it was well past the time every other business on the street was closed. Then again, Lacey considered, it was rent day.  She probably wasn’t the only one who had to make a late night visit to the pawnbroker. It made sense he’d rather conduct business at the shop than at his home. No one she knew had ever seen the inside of Gold’s big pink house.

She’d passed it every now and again, wondering if it was as ornate on the inside. She pictured it full of dark polished woods and heavy fabrics, sumptuous but cluttered. Rather like his shop.

The bell above the door tinkled as she made her way inside.

No one at the counter. She cast a brief glance around at the bizarre and sundry items scattered about. It was like a written invitation to shoplifters. Lacey may have had some rather sticky fingers as a teenager but she mostly over that, now. Plus, a person would have to have some pretty big bollocks to steal from Mr. Gold. Or be awfully desperate. Either way, Lacey couldn’t see things ending well for the perpetrator.

“Mr. Gold?” she called.

“If you’re here to buy, I’ll be out in a minute,” came the unhurried reply.

“It’s Lacey French. I’ve got something for you.”

A pause. “Through the curtain.”

The man was seated at a desk in his long sleeve shirt and tie. The coat and vest were gone and it occurred to Lacey she’d never seen him without them before. He looked smaller, thinner than she’d expected. Despite the fact he was barely half a head taller than she, he always seemed to loom much larger. In the dim light of a single desk lamp, he looked almost like an ordinary man. Not the terrifying silver-tongued dealmaker with the power to leave most the town homeless. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

He had what looked like a ledger book open in front of him and was running one finger down the length of a page, a pen in his left hand. Beside the book, cash was neatly stacked and tied off in rubber bands, like little paper bricks. Lacey pictured him briefly building an igloo out of money bricks, to hide himself away from the world. It was a funny image but somehow she didn’t feel like laughing.

“You have the money?” he addressed her without looking up.

She strolled closer, all practiced nonchalance as she pulled the billfold out of the tiny sparkly purse on her shoulder. “Mm-hm. Funny story, actually. Keith showed up about an hour or so after you left. With $300.” Gold did not react, so she added, “and a broken nose.”

Gold made an impatient sound, “as interesting as the minutia of your life is, I’ll take the rest of your payment, now.” He extended the hand not holding the pen.

A stain at the edge of the sleeve caught Lacey’s eye as she placed the cash in his palm. “There’s blood on your cuff,” she observed.

Gold’s eyes followed her line of vision and he shrugged. “Must have cut myself shaving, this morning.”

Bullshit, she thought. It had to have been him. The bruising across Keith’s throat was just the length and width of the handle of Gold’s cane. And if that wasn’t Keith’s blood on his sleeve, she’d eat her entire sequined purse collection. 

 “Really?” Lacey pursued. “I didn’t see it there, earlier.”

She wasn’t sure why but she needed him to admit it, to confess what he’d done for her. Something in the pit of her stomach clenched and unclenched, a secret little thrill that she barely wanted to acknowledge. Gold had beaten her would-be assailant and made him apologize. No one had ever made a man apologize to her, before. And plenty of men in town owed an apology or two.

Gold caught her eye and held it. “You were drunk, earlier,” he said, pointedly.

“Not that drunk,” she defended without conviction. “Tipsy, maybe.”

“Could have fooled me.” He arched one eyebrow and Lacey bit her lip as a sudden heat shot up her spine. It shouldn’t be a surprise that skepticism looked good on him.

He made a final mark in his ledger and closed it, grabbing his cane from its resting place against the side of the desk.

Lacey watched him, slowly putting two and two together. She cocked her head, hands coming to her hips. “Is that why you turned me down?”

His mouth fell open slightly but he recovered quickly and rose to his feet. “It’s late. Isn’t there a barstool somewhere calling your name, dear?”

Lacey pursed her lips. “Don’t you have a big empty house to go home to?”

“Better than a small, empty apartment,” he returned, evenly.

Lacey sniffed. “Not empty. I’ve got a cat.”

“Not according to your rental agreement, you don’t.”

She raised her pointer finger.  “Doesn’t count if it doesn’t live with me. He’s just a stray I take care of now and then.”

His mouth twisted. “Make a habit of that, do you?”

Lacey fixed him with a fulminating glare. “Fuck you, Mr. Gold.”

“No need. You’re paid in full.”

Without thinking, Lacey closed the space between them, her hand rising to slap him across the face. Like a shot, his free hand caught hers by the wrist. The momentum she’d built found her stumbling forward, unbalanced. She caught herself with her other hand gripping his shoulder. Lacey grit her teeth and tried to yank her hand free but Gold held tight with a surprising amount of strength. 

“Let me go, asshole!” Lacey protested. “You have no right.”

“I have every right to defend my person when attacked,” he asserted, pressing her arm away and down.

She raised her other hand and heard his cane clatter to the floor as he grabbed that one, too. Lacey huffed, angrily, both hands now trapped in his vise-like grip. He maneuvered both arms down so they were slightly behind her, bringing them body to body. She shifted her weight, struggling against him. Her breasts crushed to his chest and she got a heavy whiff of his cologne. Something spicy with a hint of musk. An unexpected frisson of excitement ran through her, mingling with her remaining anger.

She stilled to look up at him, so close she was nearly cross-eyed. “Let me go,” she repeated, her voice dropping to a lower tone.

They were both panting slightly, his breath hot on her face. “Will I walk away unharmed?”

She smirked. “Why? Can’t handle the rough stuff?”

Even in the low light, she could see his eyes get darker, half-lidded as they were. Then Lacey realized she could feel him, hard against her hip. Heat flared, low in her belly. She rolled her hips, deliberately this time, and Gold inhaled sharply. She repeated the action and he swore under his breath.

Lacey smiled, that knot of desire tightening, anticipation pooling at the apex of her legs. She raised herself infinitesimally closer, onto the tips of her toes, and brushed her lips to his. He froze at first, his hands tightening on her wrists. Then, just as Lacey began to worry she’d crossed one line too far, Gold was tilting his head, mouth crashing down on hers. He released her arms to wrap both of his around her. Lacey’s breath was gone and everything was wet heat, his teeth scraping her bottom lip and her lip gloss sticky between them. She buried both hands in his hair, silky soft through her fingers, nails scratching at his scalp. He ground his lower body against hers, one hand travelling down to her arse and squeezing.

Lacey hitched one leg up to wrap around his hips, needing more contact. But she’d forgotten about his bad leg and he stumbled back, breaking the kiss. This time, she was the one to steady him, bending down to retrieve his cane and silently hand it to him.

He took it, letting out a long, shaky breath. “Go home, Lacey. Playtime is over.”

Lacey straightened, looking at him with incredulity. His hair was mussed, mouth smeared and shiny with her favorite shade of peachy pink, chest heaving under his tie. The hard line of his cock jutted obscenely against the fly of his very expensive suit trousers.  She licked her lips and saw his gaze follow the motion of her tongue. “I don’t think that’s what you really want,” she observed, breathily.

His throat worked, lips pressing together.

Boldly, Lacey reached out and palmed him through his trousers. Gold made a grunting noise, his eyes slamming shut. They reopened and focused on her face. His cock twitched in her hand and she smiled.

His free hand clenched and unclenched at his side as he studied her face. Lacey reached for his belt buckle and he stopped her, looking pained. “I don’t… make that kind of deal, dear.”

Lacey rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine. But did you want to do this or not? Otherwise, I’ve got an empty apartment and a vibrator to get home to.”

That surprised a laugh out of him, his face softening briefly.  “Well, when you put it that way,” he murmured, stepping closer to her once more.

 Lacey was struck by the way humor changed him. She had never seen him smile before, only smirk in that self-satisfied way.  He was a handsome man, with his fine hair and finer suits, wearing his aloofness and cruelty like a suit of armor. Laughter made him look almost kind. It was both attractive and disconcerting in a way she couldn’t quite name. She couldn’t resist tasting his smile.

He kissed her back without hesitation this time, cupping her cheek with his free hand.  Lacey backed up toward the desk, towing him by his belt. Lowering his mouth to her shoulder, he swept some debris from the desk to the floor (not the money, she noted). She clambered onto the freshly cleared surface, pulling him between her parted thighs. He traced the line of her neck with hot, biting kisses, sucking hard at her pulse point. She wondered if there’d be a lovebite, marking her as his. Something deep and feral within her liked that thought immensely and she felt herself get wetter.  She squirmed and sighed, tugging at the ends of his hair. Together they removed her shirt and bra, exposing her small, pert breasts. He kissed his way to her chest, suckling each nipple in turn, while he plucked at the other with his free hand.

She pulled his mouth back to hers, tugging open his buckle and unzipping him without looking. He was heated silk in her hands, weeping at the tip. She ran her hand the length of him and he made a sound low in his throat. She swallowed the sound, stroking him again as he bucked into her touch.

“Do you have…?” He murmured against her lips.

“Protection? Yeah.”

Her purse had fallen off her shoulder onto the desk beside her. She snatched it up, fishing through it as Gold mouthed at her neck and collarbones. His free hand slid up her thigh, pushing her tiny skirt further up. Lacey canted her hips toward his questing hand. When he found her bare and soaking wet beneath the scant fabric, he groaned. She found the condom and tore open the wrapper just as Gold slid one fingertip the length of her slit. She hummed her approval as he circled her clit with that damp digit.

 She rolled the condom down his length and scooted to the edge of the desk. Holding her gaze, he lined them up and sank slowly home.

“Fuck yes,” she breathed, her legs wrapping around his hips.

His mouth caught hers as he pulled out to the tip and plunged forward again. She dug her heels into his buttocks, encouraging him to move faster. He took the hint, sucking on her tongue as he pistoned his hips. Lacey placed one hand behind her for support, the other wrapped around his neck. Their kisses grew messy and breathless as Lacey’s head began to spin. Her thighs were shaking, Gold burying himself deep with every thrust. He moved his free hand back to her clit, working it with his thumb. She felt her pleasure spiraling up and up and up, until she was crying out. She broke with an inarticulate curse, grasping at the fabric of his shirt.

Gold’s rhythm grew erratic, his forehead coming to her shoulder as he pounded into her. Lacey’s body was still shuddering with the aftershocks of her own climax as Gold stiffened and pulsed within her. He muffled a deep moan in her hair, the fingers of his free hand now digging into her hip.

Neither of them moved for several minutes, the air filled with ragged breathing and the thick scent of their joining. As Gold began to soften, he withdrew, turning away to remove the condom.

Lacey slid from the table onto trembling legs and went in search of her shirt and bra. They had been flung away in haste and she wasn’t sure where they’d landed.

By the time she was dressed, Gold was closing the door to his vault with the rent money and ledger book inside. She watched him for a moment before speaking. “Closing up, already? Figured you’d stay open all night on rent day.”

He glanced down then back at her, his face unreadable. “You were the last one.”

Lacey swallowed. “Oh.”

The corners of his mouth turned up briefly, the barest flicker of that smile she’d seen earlier. “Goodnight, Lacey.”

It was a dismissal, but it didn’t feel cold. In fact, she rather like the way he seemed to savor her name. “Goodnight, Mr. Gold.”


	3. Good Intentions - Part One

It had been two weeks since she fucked Mr. Gold in the back of his shop.  
  
The next morning, she discovered that he'd left a set of distinct marks on the flesh of her neck. It wasn't unusual for Lacey French to walk around town with a hickey or two. She never tried too hard to cover that stuff up. These she wore like a fucking badge of honor, flaunting them in low-necked tops and dresses until they faded.

She had passed the man, himself, on the street at one point. They didn't speak, didn't even make eye contact. But she could swear she felt his eyes on her neck, saw his steady gait fumble just slightly - not in a way she'd have noticed, if she hadn't been looking for it.  
  
Her lips curled upward at the memory. She wondered what it would be like to leave her mark on him. Just above where his shirt and tie would cover it. Set the whole town to gossiping over who on Earth would bed the beast of Storybrooke. Would he let her? Would he wear the signs of their joining as defiantly as she had? Or would he cover them up like lipstick smudged onto the wrong collar?  
  
Heading to the Rabbit Hole with these questions burning in her mind, Lacey suddenly found herself facing the subject of her thoughts, head-on from a block away. She realized he must be heading back to his house, about two blocks past her shitty little apartment.  
  
Mr. Gold walked home from his shop every night. Even though that big fancy caddy sat in his driveway, and a burly man called Dove had, on occasion, identified himself as Gold's driver. Perhaps he was stretching his injured leg. Perhaps he enjoyed the Maine air. Why else would a wealthy man with a cane and a limp traverse the half mile through town every morning and evening? Lacey suspected it had something to do with showing them all that he still could.  
  
The first inkling of a plan popped into her head as she saw his gaze slant to her and then away. Adjusting the trajectory of her strut, she managed to place herself directly in his path. If he noticed, he didn't slow one iota. In fact, he may have picked up his pace.  
  
Not to be outdone, Lacey quickened her stride, as well. They were approaching one another at a fast clip, neither showing any sign of slowing. It was a game of chicken and Lacey bit back a manic laugh, her heart pounding.  
  
Just when collision seemed inevitable, Gold ground to a halt, placing his cane squarely in front of him.  
  
"Miss French." He bared his teeth when he spoke, in way that wasn't quite a smile.  
  
Lacey's belly gave a flip as she stopped in her tracks, less than a foot from where Gold stood. "Mr. Gold," she acknowledged, evenly, catching his gaze and holding it.  
  
He cleared his throat. "Is there a particular reason you've put yourself in my path?"  
  
Lacey gave a flippant shrug. "Technically, I have the right of way." She was on the right side of the sidewalk and he on the left. Nevermind that she'd only moved to obstruct him in the first place.  
  
The corner of his mouth twitched but his face remained otherwise impassive. "Not where I come from. You either, if I'm not mistaken."  
  
"Ah, but when in Rome..." she made a dismissive hand gesture, nerves thrumming.  
  
Gold arched one eyebrow. "So it's assimilate or be trampled, is it?"  
  
Biting back a smirk, Lacey settled both hands on her hips, cocking them to one side. "I don't make the rules."  
  
His eyes left hers to make a lazy path down the length of her body. It was a warm night and Lacey had forgone a jacket over her slinky black dress. Gold lingered on her décolletage, hips, and legs before licking his lips. His voice was rougher when he spoke again, his eye gone darker when they settled back on hers. "Don't you?"  
  
Lacey swallowed, hard. Her pulse seemed to have centered itself directly at the apex of her legs and she tensed both thighs, shifting in her heels. "I'm willing to be... flexible. If you are," she drawled.  
  
His mouth quirked and he lifted his cane slightly. "Afraid my range of mobility is not quite a match for yours."  
  
She closed the space between them, his cane now out of the way. Leaning in, near enough to feel his heat but not quite touching, she whispered in his ear, "we both know that's not true."  
  
His eyes fell shut, nostrils flaring. She could see his jaw flex in her peripheral. "Miss French..." he exhaled her name in a hiss.  
  
"Lacey," she corrected, nibbling at his ear. His hand came to her hip, fingertips digging in slightly as she suckled the lobe. "And my place is only up the street. I'm sure we can find a few comfortable enough positions for you there."  
  
He took a shaky breath, as if to reply then suddenly stiffened and pushed her away. "Please refrain from molesting my suit simply because you are too inebriated to stand, Miss French," he snapped.  
  
"What the...?" Lacey staggered back on her teetering heels, face aflame. Anger twisted her insides, her fists balling.  
  
"Lacey French, is it?" A clipped tone from behind her caused her to turn around. The Mayor of Storybrooke, one stuffy, nasty piece of work named Regina Mills, gave her an oily smile. "Drunk in public?" She shook her well-coiffed head, making a tsking sound "and assaulting one of our most... prestigious citizens? Oh my, your father would be so disappointed in you."  
  
Lacey glared at the older woman. "What a fucking novelty that would be. But I'm not drunk. I..." She gave Gold a hard look. He did not meet her eyes, instead flicking an imaginary piece of lint from his jacket. Lacy grit her teeth, "I just stumbled and Mr. Gold happened to be walking by."  
  
The Mayor's appraising gaze lit on Gold. "Do you wish to make a formal complaint, Mr. Gold?"  
  
Gold scoffed. "What for? She hasn't got a dime to her name."  
  
Mills shrugged, "Your call. I'm sure sheriff Graham isn't too busy to at least write up the incident." She slowly tapped the toe of one designer shoe.  
  
Gold's eyes narrowed. "Oh aye? I hear you keep him plenty busy, Madam Mayor."  
  
Mills' mouth twisted, that placidly superior demeanor slipping for just a second before she composed herself with a flip of her hair. "Well, I don't know about you two but I've got better things to do than stand around on street corners. Good night, Mr. Gold." She inclined her head, adding snidely, "And Lacey, perhaps you ought to be more careful in those ridiculous shoes of yours."  
  
Lacey sucked on her upper teeth. "Well, I'm afraid we can't all afford Louboutins."  
  
Mills rolled her eyes and breezed past them with a haughty sniff. She was heading in the direction of the sheriff's station, Lacey noted.   
  
Gold eyed her, awkwardly. "Not exactly what you had in mind for the evening, I'm sure."  
  
Lacey felt her wrath flare, once more, easily overtaking the now-dampened desire. It was bad enough he was clearly embarrassed to be seen with her in public but to do that in front of the Mayor... That woman was always looking for any excuse to make an example of someone. If Lacey hadn't been stone cold sober, she could have spent the night in jail, rather than writhing beneath the man in front of her.

"That was mortifying and you're an asshole," she snapped.  
  
"Yes," Gold blinked, his shoulders dropping just a fraction. He turned his attention to the tips of his shoes. "Yes," he repeated, thickly. "Good night, Miss French." He moved past her, giving a wide berth.  
  
"Was better before I ran into you," she bit out, crossing her arms defensively as tears pricked at her eyes.  
  
He said nothing, just kept walking.  
  
***  
Another week had passed and rent day was fast approaching. Lacey was still angry with Gold, though, much like the love bites he'd left on her neck, the feeling had begun to fade.  
  
After all, he was a man with a reputation to protect. He certainly didn't need to be seen with the town bicycle hanging off his arm. And, frankly, Lacey didn't really need to lower her own stock by having it said she was some kind of gold-digger (oh, and the pun would be very much intended). Good old fashioned slut she could handle, that title gave her a certain kind of clout - the kind which usually meant free drinks and favors when she needed them.

Gold was all about power and control. Lacey was unfettered and untamed. They were a bad match; that was for sure. Her attraction to him didn't even make sense.

Except maybe that there was a sense of danger to the mystery in which he shrouded himself. She had always liked a mystery. Gold was a damn enigma. If he was a book, he'd be a page turner. She'd keep trying to put it down and go on about her life, but it would keep itching at the back of her mind.

Fuck him.  
  
She wished she didn't still want to.  
  
Lacey scrunched up her face and made a sound of disgust at the pile of crumpled bills in her lap. At least she could pay rent this month. But only if she was able to live on saltines most of next week. The last couple nights, her pool game had been off. She'd barely managed to break even. Keith hadn’t come near her, but she’d heard secondhand that he’d been bragging about her turn of luck. He claimed it was some kind of karma for having rejected his advances. Ruby assured her that no one was actually listening to him. 

She stuffed her money back into the sequined bag and tucked it under the couch. On the back of the couch was a hot pink minidress with black piping. It was getting a little frayed at the seams but it still looked pretty sexy on her. She wiggled into it. Some makeup and hairspray later, she was ready to head out.

The Rabbit Hole was smoky and loud but not exactly hopping. Not really unusual for a weeknight. She sighed, scanning the scant crowd for a gullible looking face.

“Hey,” a familiar voice distracted her, “Hey, Lace.”

She turned toward the bar where the bartender, a heavy-set man with a stubbled goatee, was waving her over. He owned the place and worked most nights. They knew one another in passing but rarely spoke. With a curious look, she approached.

“Hi Kev. What’s up?”

The man’s eyes shifted to the side and back, “Nothing, I just, uh… I just noticed it hasn’t been a great week for you. Around here.”

Lacey made a face, “God, is he telling everyone?” That fucking wanker, Keith! She ought to have chased him down and made him eat his words. Or gotten Gold to make him… oh, right, Gold only did her indirect favors, where no one would see.

Kevin looked surprised, “Oh, so you know he talked to me. I thought it was supposed to be some big secret.” He shrugged. “Well, whatever. What do you say?”

“About what?” she asked, already bored with whatever cock-sucking Keith might have told the owner of the Rabbit Hole. 

“The job,” Kevin said slowly, as though it were obvious. “Gold said you could use a steady gig and, uh, asked if I could use an extra bartender.”

Lacey nearly fell off her heels. She slumped heavily onto a barstool. “What did you just say?”

“Do you want to bartend? Here? For… money. I can teach you whatever you don’t already know.” Kevin seemed to get more nervous by the minute. “Um please say yes?”

Oh, she’d been furious at the wrong fucker. Keith, for once, had done nothing wrong. Seething, Lacey gripped the bar with both hands. “Kevin, what happens if I don’t say yes to your oh-so-generous spontaneous job offer?”

Kevin was openly sweating now, wringing the cleaning rag in his hands. He feigned a laugh. “I don’t know what you mean, Lace. It’s just a job. But I’d really… really appreciate it if you would take it?”

Lacey squeezed her eyes shut, counting to ten in her head. She exhaled slowly and opened them. Kevin was watching her anxiously.

“Yeah, okay. When do I start?”

Kevin released his breath in a whoosh. “Thanks for that. Look, I actually think you’d be really good at it and… my wife would like it if I came home before 3 AM once in a while.” He offered a genuine smile, this time, extending his hand. “Come in tomorrow around 2 PM and we’ll start with basic cocktails. Sound good?”

Lacey shook the offered hand and rolled off of the stool. “Great. If you’ll excuse me, I have some other, unexpected business to attend to, tonight.”

A glance to the clock on the wall told her Gold’s shop would be closed by now, but she had a feeling he’d still be there. And she had all night to make a fuss until he let her in.


	4. Good Intentions - Part Two

Gold was bent over a cuckoo clock, pliers buried deep in its guts, when he heard his shop door open and slam closed, the bell jangling hard. He gave a distasteful look toward the curtain that separated the back room and the shop. Some people had no respect for private property. If he had to replace that bell, he’d be taking the price out of whomever it was that just arrived.

“Gold?” said a strident voice with a lilting accent that could only belong to one woman he knew.

He froze. Even if he didn’t reply, she’d probably still come back here, but she sounded none too happy. Perhaps Kevin at the Rabbit Hole hadn’t told her the good news yet. He hadn’t had much on the man, but with a few whispers in the right ears, you could make just about anyone think they owed you a favor. The Rabbit Hole seemed a natural place for Lacey to work, given her inexplicable fondness for it.

If she was working, she wouldn’t be dependant on the money she made hustling pool. Which, in turn, meant she would be able to pay her rent in full, each month. There would be no more negotiations, no more misunderstood deals. It all made perfectly good sense. Except for the fact that he was so desperate to maneuver himself into the good graces of someone who could do nothing for him. Well, not nothing. Just something he wasn’t accustomed to having much of...

He scrubbed a hand over his face. For fuck’s sake, he was a grown man and he couldn’t even think the word “sex” in the privacy of his own mind? Surely it hadn’t been that long before Lacey came along. Women were rarely a part of his focus. People, in general, he found a bother, more often than not. They only ever wanted something from you - money, favors, time, attention, affection. Whatever it was, if you gave them just a moment of opportunity, they would drain you dry. Isolation was far preferable than dealing with the petty concerns of others day in and day out.

Gold was not just an island, he was a veritable fortress. He kept a well tended moat, the drawbridge permanently up. He’d only made the mistake of lowering it once before and that had ended in desolation. Odd, now that he tried to focus on it, he honestly couldn’t remember exactly how, only that it had happened. He knew he’d been married, that the woman in question had left in a fit of cold fury, snuffing out the last spark of any desire he’d had for human contact. Yet everything beyond that raw emotion and those few sparse details felt a bit hazy and ephemeral. Like trying to catch mist with his bare hands. He shook his head, dismissing the thought.

He could hear her heels getting closer, clicking across the wooden floor. Lacey was not quiet in any respect, as he’d recently discovered. She was bold and brash and colorful. She was everything he ought to disdain. And yet, she was the only woman in this town who had ever so much as turned his head. He’d have to be a dead man not to know she was attractive. She flaunted those perky tits and sinuous legs at every opportunity. Just the barest glimpse of her silhouette made his mouth water. But it wasn’t her more obvious charms that had him so undone.There was something else, something that drew him to her with an intensity a lesser man might have found… frightening.

He had thought about her more than once while taking himself in hand, at night. He imagined what it might be like to run his hands and mouth across every inch of her skin, to savor the ripeness between her legs and feel her lips wrap around his cock. He never fancied for even a moment that her flirtation was more than perfunctory, more than routine for every man she encountered. Until that night, three weeks ago, when she’d somehow taken him by storm.

“This place is a fucking mess.” Lacey was in the doorway now, bracing against it with an arm on either side. He thought briefly of an earthquake, when a doorframe was supposed to be the safest place to stand. Ironic, when the woman, herself, was practically a force of nature. 

“Are you really one to judge?” he asked. “Remember, I have been privy to your housekeeping style.”

Lacey’s lips pressed together in a thin line. “What the fuck game are you playing with me, Gold?”

His eyebrows rose and he inclined his head toward the pile of gadgets scattered across his worktable. “Does it look like I have time to play games?”

“I’m working at the Rabbit Hole, starting tomorrow,” she said, peevishly. Certainly not the tone he’d have expected from the recently gainfully employed.

Blandly, he replied, “Congratulations. Not everyone can get paid to pursue their hobbies.”

Lacey came further into the room, crossing her arms over her chest. He’d always liked when she did that, it pushed her delicious breasts up even further. He wanted to run his tongue over the rounded tops. She caught him looking and made an exasperated sound, throwing up both hands.

“Unbelievable.”

“Sorry?” he inquired, genuinely curious, but keeping his tone just this side of snide. Couldn’t let anyone start to think they’d gotten the upper hand. Even if she was remarkably distracting in that dress and all he was really thinking about was ripping it off with his teeth.

“You. You fuck me legless, treat me like shit and then take another turn as some mysterious benefactor.” She rounded the desk, slamming her hand down on the clearest part of the table. “I’m not a bloody charity case.”

He blinked at her. Was that what had her so riled? “It was a simple solution to a recurring problem. Kevin needed something from me, I need you to be able to pay your rent.”

Lacey made a rude noise, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, you’re really hurting for cash.”

He said nothing, trying to keep his eyes from straying. He could smell the musky perfume she wore, and beneath that just a hint of sweat and the smoke from the bar that clung to her dress. It wasn’t a scent he’d have normally thought of as pleasant, but on Lacey, he found himself longing to draw her closer and breath it in.

She tilted her head, giving him a hard look. “That’s really the line you’re going with, then? This was all about rent. Not even an attempt to acknowledge what happened last week?”

He looked back down at the clock in front of him and shrugged. “What is there to mention? I was doing you a favor.”

“By getting me a job or by making me look like an idiot in front of Mayor Mills?” Lacey huffed.

“Regina Mills already thinks everyone in this town is an idiot,” Gold waved a hand dismissively.

Lacey snorted, cocking one hip and looking down her nose at him. “Surprised you two don’t get along better.”

He clenched the hand still holding the pliers and bared his teeth. “Tell me, is it your tact or your charm that has earned you such vast popularity?”

Lacey fixed him with a fulminating glare that had probably quite the opposite of its intended effect on parts of his anatomy. They studied one another for a long moment, the air between them growing thick. Gold shifted in his seat, trousers pressing uncomfortably at his groin, and Lacey’s eyes flicked to his lap. From the little smirk that followed, he had no doubt she could tell he was aroused. He contemplated his options.

He could continue this stalemate and probably end the night wanking in the shower. Or, he could give Lacey just a taste of what she wanted and hopefully she’d give him one back. He licked his lips, picturing her spread out before him.

Plan B certainly sounded far more enjoyable.

“Mayor Mills,” he sneered at the honorific, “may hold most of the town in disdain but I am one of the few to be truly honored by her undying hatred.” He paused, gauging her reaction. He could almost hear her contemplating a cheap shot about how what good company Regina would be in. Gold was well aware that most the town hated him. He had cultivated it.

Lacey said nothing, just raised her eyebrows for him to continue.

“And if she knew you had a connection to me, how do you think that would look for you? Whatever this,” he waved a hand between them, “may be, do you really want the Mayor knowing about it?”

Lacey took a breath, realization dawning clearly on her face. Leaning her hip against the table, she seemed to be surveying the various cogs and tools spread out across it. After a moment, she spoke without looking up. “I don’t get you, Gold. You’re the most powerful guy in town and yet here you are, hiding out in the back of a chintzy pawn shop, fixing a fucking clock in your spare time. You could own Mayor Mills, twice over, if you wanted to. Everyone’s more afraid of you than they are of her. Her reign of terror is limited but you… you could live like a king if you wanted to. Why don’t you just own it?” She captured his gaze, holding him fast with a dark hunger in her eyes. “Why don’t you just take what you want?”

That was a challenge if he’d ever heard one. And Gold was not a man to back down from a challenge. Not when the odds were in his favor. Without a word, he pushed his chair away and stood, using the table for the needed support. Lacey gave him a defiant look with half-lidded eyes as he closed the space between them. In one swift move, he had spun her around, facing away from him and pinned her to the table with his hips. She gasped and arched into him.

Leaning in, he whispered in her ear, “Like this?”

She shivered against him, swiveling her hips.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chided in a low voice, “Did I say I wanted you to move?”

She stilled, though he could feel her taking quick, shallow breaths. Daring to balance without aid, he trailed both hands up her sides. They slid around to cup her breasts, nipples perking into his palms through the thin fabric of her dress. He tweaked both at once with his forefingers and thumbs and Lacey released a half-swallowed moan. The neckline of her dress skimmed low and it was simple to pull it down, baring her chest to the chill air in the shop. He nosed along the column of her neck, plucking at her stiff nipples. He flicked his tongue over her pulse point, feeling it jump and race. Lacey began to squirm, making little noises of frustration as he alternated light and firm caresses. At her movement, he withdrew his hands, placing them at her hips.

She made a sound of protest. “Gold…”

He nibbled her ear before murmuring against the shell. “Is there something _you_ want, dear?”

When she didn’t answer, he widened his stance, pressing his erection into the cleft of her buttocks.

Lacey exhaled loudly, her hands balling at her sides. “Please?”

“Please what? Be more specific…”

Lacey turned her head to look daggers at him. “You’re _such_ a fucking asshole.”

He inclined his head. “I won’t argue that. But hurling insults won’t get you there any faster.” He kissed the corner of her mouth, reaching down to toy with the hem of her dress. The fingers of one hand skimmed her inner thigh and he watched her try to bite back a whimper.

“Say the words.” he murmured, trying to keep a note of pleading out of his own voice. He was achingly hard and dying to feel her around him, but he couldn’t let her win. Not when he was so close to victory. He dragged his thumb across the soaked gusset of her knickers. 

“Fuck.” Lacey panted, her head falling forward.

“Commentary or request?” He quipped, pressing a little harder against her heated center, feeling her wetness start to coat his fingers through the skimpy strip of fabric. God, he couldn't hold out much longer.

Between gritted teeth, she ground out “Request. Fuck me. Right now.”

He swallowed a groan of relief and hitched up her skirt, pulling aside her thong. Since their first encounter, he had taken to carrying a condom in his pocket. He only just remembered this as he let his trousers fall to the floor. Lacey braced herself against the table, arching her back and spreading her legs further apart. His breath caught at the sight; Lacey’s perfect arse raised just enough to reveal her dripping and unquestionably ready for him.

“Well?” she demanded, glancing over her shoulder, again.

“Patience is a virtue,” he ground out, embarrassed to still be fussing with the condom, unable to tear his eyes from her slit.

“If I knew anything about virtue, I probably wouldn’t be here,” she returned.

“Fair point,” he admitted under his breath, sliding deep with one smooth thrust.

Lacey swore and bucked her hips. Steadying himself with one hand on the table, he grasped her hip tightly with the other. Holding her still, he withdrew, oh so slowly, to just the tip before plunging forward once more. Determined to drive her wild, he set a very deliberate pace. Lacey began to tremble, breathy sighs and gasps building in pitch and volume.

He could feel her legs shaking, inner muscles clutching, and he gave her just enough to keep her there without ever letting her over that edge. Sweat collected at his brow, his silk designer shirt clinging to his back. His leg was throbbing, unaccustomed to such usage. He ignored it. It was exquisite torture, to work her up with such meticulous purpose. He was in agony and he wanted it to last forever.

Lacey wriggled within his iron grip, clawing at the table and huffing her impatience. He saw her dip one hand beneath her, could feel her fingertips working that slippery nub. He thought about capturing her hands, making her take her pleasure only from him. Perhaps once they'd been doing this longer- if they were to keep doing this at all- perhaps she might trust him enough to let him take control, let him show her he could give her exactly what she needed…

The very thought of having Lacey fully surrender herself to him seared through the last threads of his self control and he was lost. He snapped his hips, driving into her like a madman. Lacey came magnificently, howling obscenities and gripping him like a vice. He followed her, babbling something that sounded very like her name.

Immediately after he finished, the pain in his leg overtook him and he collapsed inelegantly into his desk chair. Lacey shot him a look of concern but he waved it off, feeling ashamed. The reality of their situation set back in with an unpleasant chill down his back. How could he think himself capable of seeing to her needs when he barely had a handle on his own? He may be rich and powerful, but he was also twice her age and partially crippled. Something flared in the back of his mind - his ex-wife and sharp words. She must have made her distaste for his condition clear enough. He could feel her disgust, etched into his bones. But again, the memory was gone when he reached for it, fading away like smoke.

He disposed of the condom in silence as Lacey sorted herself out. Once she had resumed the appearance of what passed for decent, she turned to go. Just as she reached the curtain in the doorway, she paused.

“Gold?”

“Yeah?” His heart gave a heavy thump. Here was where she'd tell him he'd gone too far. Berate him for being old and lame, useless.

“Perhaps next time we ought to try making it to a bed,” she suggested, softly.

 _Next time_. He swallowed hard, not trusting his voice, and nodded. Next time…

And with a lopsided grin, she was gone.

 


End file.
